Page 9 of A Lord Apart (The Way to a Lord's Heart 2)

“I remember being told that ‘Frithgerd’ meant sanctuary or sacred place,” added Macklin. “Any enclosed area given over to the worship of the gods, really.”

“Gods? What gods?”

The older man shrugged. “Well, Odin? Thor? I’m no expert.”

“Papa told you all this?” Daniel simply didn’t believe it. His father had never shown the least interest in history, or any knowledge of it, for that matter. They may not have had many significant conversations, but Daniel was certain of that much.

“Now I come to think of it, it wasn’t John. Your grandfather buttonholed me at some banquet or other and gave me a lecture on the ancients.”

That sounded more likely. Daniel remembered his grandfather as an inveterate talker. Of course, the old fellow had been losing his wits by the time Daniel met him.

“I didn’t appreciate it at the time, but bits stuck with me, obviously,” Lord Macklin continued. “A fascinating tale. I wonder I never talked with John about it. Too much else going on, I suppose. And I didn’t see as much of your father as I would have wished in recent years.”

Daniel felt an unwelcome pang, an unsettling mixture of pain and resentment that was all too familiar. He suppressed it.

“He was always on the move,” added the earl, his tone gentle.

With no time for family connections, Daniel thought. Scarcely even a letter. But he didn’t wish to be reminded of that. Or of anything else, really. If the earl had come to talk more about grief, he’d be disappointed. “We’re in mourning here. I haven’t been entertaining guests.”

The earl waved this aside. “Oh, you needn’t bother entertaining me. I can look after myself. Perhaps I can even be of use to you.” Before Daniel could think of another excuse, he added, “Have you learned any more about the mysterious legacy you wrote me about? It did make me curious.”

“A woman has arrived and moved into Rose Cottage.”

“A woman?”

“A young lady.” When Lord Macklin raised his eyebrows, Daniel added, “Not like that.”

“Like?”

“I had thought…as one would, perhaps a mistress or some such thing. Though Papa never…and how would he have had the time when he was scarcely ever home? Anyway, she isn’t. Not that sort at all. She claims she doesn’t know why the house was left to her.”

“Really? And you believe her?”

“I do.” Miss Pendleton’s bewilderment on that subject had been unmistakable.

“How very strange.”

“Indeed.”

“We must go over and see her tomorrow and look into this matter further.”

“What? No!” It was out of the question. Even if Daniel hadn’t had a thousand other things to do, he didn’t intend to call on Miss Penelope Pendleton again. She’d made it clear he wasn’t welcome. And he would soon forget the touch of her lips brushing across his palms. Of course he would. A man could accomplish anything with decisive action and mental fortitude.

Three

But his fortitude proved insufficient. Somehow, Daniel found himself riding out with Lord Macklin the following afternoon to call on Miss Pendleton. There’d been no dispute about the expedition, which he’d been resolvednotto make. The earl was invariably cordial and kind. He suggested rather than demanded. And yet his plan for the day had prevailed.

Equally puzzling, they were attended on the ride by a gangly lad named Tom, who apparently had no last name. Perhaps fifteen years old and said to be from Bristol, Tom had a homely, round face, bright blue eyes, and prominent front teeth. His smile, a near constant, was carefree and friendly. Though he wore a fine new coat, his appearance and manner suggested that he was a servant—more than a groom or footman and certainly less than a private secretary—yet he seemed to have no particular duties. He spoke of being on an adventure. Daniel wasn’t clear who or what he was, but it seemed churlish to object to such a sunny presence.

Today, Rose Cottage looked prettily peaceful in the June sunshine. Ruddy blossoms hung from the twining briars that engulfed one end of the house, filling the air with a sweet scent. They dismounted by the front garden wall, and Tom took all three horses’ reins. Daniel strode up to the front door to knock. A moment later, it was opened by the young maid Kitty. The girl turned toward the stairs and called, “It’s his lordship come back.” She stepped aside to let them enter, indicating the room on the left of the entry.

Daniel hesitated. “The horses.” It hadn’t been a long or strenuous ride, but their mounts could use watering.

“Mr. Foyle’ll take them,” said the maid.

As if conjured, an elderly man in an old-fashioned tricorn hat, dun coat, and buckskin breeches came around the side of the house and muttered, “Barn’s this way.” The fellow had the wind-roughened face of a countryman and hands twisted by years of hard work. This must be the manservant Miss Pendleton had mentioned, Daniel thought. He and Tom went off with the horses. Daniel led Lord Macklin inside.

He found the interior of the house transformed. The dust and echoing emptiness was gone, replaced by cozy elegance. Obviously, Miss Pendleton’s furniture had arrived, and it included a number of fine pieces that had certainly come from a far grander dwelling. The brocade of the draperies looked quite expensive as well.

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